A Pug's eyed view
by SplendidIsolation
Summary: She's vain!She's selfish and She's the future Mrs Malfoy (or so she thinks) Pansy 'me me' Parkinson invites you into her mind...be afraid, be v. afraid!
1. Default Chapter

                                             **A PUG'S EYED VIEW**

**'Authors' note; I would like to apologise before hand for my shameless abuse of the great work of J.K Rowling. This is a Pansy centric fic, so be prepared for heavy bashing of the Draco/Ginny ship. Keep in mind that the greatly misunderstood charms of Miss Parkinson are a national treasure and should be treated with the utmost respect (I'm shooting the bull big time, sorry) Please, please (don't make a poor girl beg) read and review. Thanks! **

 Have you ever had one of those life changing days? When the whole world is lit up in techni-colour goodness and the slightest noise is like a cinematic, surround sound experience? No? Well one day you will, I assure you it will happen. That perfect day will bound up on you when you least expect it, catch you by surprise and spin your axis completely off balance. I sound insane don't I? Like an Easter bunny overdosed on Prozac?

There was a time when I would feel sick at such overblown happy clappy feelings, but now, well now is different. I guess I should start from the beginning, the very source of this fable. I must warn you, back in those days I was slightly less filled with joys of spring; to be blunt I was a bitch, but weren't we all?

(Perhaps the queen b-atch gene was somewhat more prominent in my body that others)

 Anyway I guess a brief description would be in order, what's a film without an appetising trailer after all. 

 As in all great romances there was a boy, a very special, magical boy. He was the typical bad ass, the one your parents warn you about and the ones you dream off. Imagine piercing grey eyes, a sardonic smile complete with a shock of white hair. Sounds a dish doesn't he? 

 I would love to say, he fell head over wands, for my glamour model looks and magnetic personality; but the path didn't run so smooth. You see, I wasn't exactly glamorous in those Hogwarts days, some would say I was pug-like but I prefer the phrase 'late bloomer'. I was cursed with a condition known to many, obsession. Draco bear (the love interest) was oblivious to my persistent, yet utterly endearing charms. He seemed to find me annoying, I know! Pansy Parkinson annoying? AS IF!

 He preferred to moon over that Weasley brat, than turn those incredibly intense eyes in my direction. Talking of Weasley Junior, I have never met anyone so inferior in every possible way! (I am of course in no way bitter) When I first discovered that my, MY Mr Malfoy had an interest in such a low ranking squib like creature, I was quite rightly outraged. She had nothing! No money (shabby chic so not in), no power, she wasn't even that pretty…Ok, I'll admit she had a certain charm , but no more than a common street urchin could claim to possess. She always insisted on cooing with her annoyingly deep brown eyes and flashing that "I'm so innocent" look, like anyone (with the exception of nearly all the boys at Hogwarts) fell for that old trick, HA!.

(I repeat that I am in no way resentful towards that red headed hussy, honestly) 

Anyway enough of little Virginia Weasley (shudder) lets get back to me, after all that is where your real interest lies. My tale is one of great woe, gasp bringing drama and of course overflowing with heart stopping, mind numbing, lip quivering, and hormone jiggling romance.

  So prepare the chocolate frogs, ready your mind, send the kiddies to bed and buckle up for the fantastic ride that is me, Pansy Parkinson. 

(There's a chance they may have come out wrong…)

I'm incredibly sorry to stall your, sure to be, uncontrollable excitement, but it is my responsibility as weaver of this epic tale, to be the bearer of bad news. Here goes, there may, MAY be a small amount of (prepare yourself) Ginny and Draco interaction (I know, the horror, the horror…) but it is important in the long run. My commiserations, feel free to skip the parts when the desire to reach for the sick bucket becomes too intense. 

        Until we meet again

          Pansy Parkinson

        (Already a legend) 


	2. Chapter 2

Note; I have no note other than urging you wonderful, glorious people (Sucking up, me?) to please review. Thank U!!!!

Welcome back, my humble muggle friends,  
  
Yes, it is I, your heroine has returned. We will now take a magical trip through time (insert creepy music and whirring lights) to the good old days, when Hogwarts was still in one piece and in no way resembled a mass of rubble. I was a young, innocent, rosy cheeked child of 16. My whole life was planned out before me; marry rich, have adorable twins, Draco Jnr and Poppy (who wouldn't grow up to resent me and plot my grisly death) and maybe, if I had the time, become a world famous witch renowned for both brains and beauty.  
  
I was in my sixth year and a proud member of Slytherin, the only house not to have fallen into disrepair. As a member of the prestigious Parkinson family, I had to maintain appearances and set standards to the less fortunate. I always remember my dear grandmothers words of wisdom (bless her soul, if she had one, that is) "You are of course superior to those mudblood parasites, but that doesn't mean you can ill treat them. Someday you may wish them to be involved in a ritual sacrifice and that always requires respect for both parties", the reliability of this is slightly dampened by the fact she believed her cat was the reincarnation of Bo'la, the famous, long dead troll king.  
  
Talking of families, mine was not exactly the wizard equivalent of the Walton's. Lets go through the head count, first off there was my mother, Amelia Parkinson, a 'lady' who took the maternal role, very lightly indeed. It wasn't as if she locked me in a cupboard or anything like that, she just preferred to take the hands of approach to parenting. The occasional air kiss and 'luvvie' usually fulfilled her mothering quota for the year. Next in line, was Daddy. He was away on business a lot, but whenever he was at home I could twist him around my perfectly manicured finger easily enough. Underneath his death eater exterior, he really was a pussy cat! Last of all came, the black sheep of the family, He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named...my brother. I shouldn't really spill the family secrets to just anybody, but I know I can trust you, my loyal doters. I guess he was always different, never took pleasure in the finer things in life, always carried around some ridiculous notion that all humans were made equal (who would believe that pile of cliché?) My parents thought he was just going through a phase, a teenage thing, but then the unthinkable happened. It was discovered that all those days when we thought he was courting a pure blood or two, he was actually volunteering at a...(wait for it) retirement home...(It gets worse) a mudblood retirement home!! I know, I know, my own brother, my only sibling fraternizing (and sponge bathing) with the enemy. He was supposed to carry on the family name, but oh no, he had to get the goody- goody complex. Of course Daddy spelled his muggle-loving ass out of the mansion. For my parent's sake, I thank the lucky stars that they were blessed with a second child, one who actually had a spine.  
  
Gosh, I've gone on a bit haven't I? Sorry, it's just that a lot of background needs to be painted here. But do not fear, my chatty nature will grow on you like mould on a old glass of butterbeer (note to self- insert more thought of simile)  
  
Much rambling ago, I started with the line, "I was in my sixth year..." I debated for many minutes on how to fully incorporate you in the world and mind of sweet sixteen me. At first I thought I could retell the memories from...erm...memory, but the years of hard work (and alcohol) have had their wicked way with the old brain cells. I could probably give you the general jist of things, but I really do think you deserve the very best, and although snippets of the past would probably make your day, I am a perfectionist. Only the full Pansy prime-time Parkinson experience will suffice. (I'm one generous lady!) Plus all that past/present tense stuff would get confusing; and even though I still have the youthful looks of a teenager, It wouldn't do to be mixing up past events with what happened last week!.  
  
So, I was in search of a solution, maybe I could brew up a potion which temporary would allow me to travel back in my mind, regression, so to speak. Although, this idea is nothing short of genius, I sadly had run out of the required ingredients, not at all conveniently (and nothing to do with my potion making skills) So the mind clogs once again began turning, that is until I recollected 'The Pansy Chronicles' What are these tantalising chronicles I hear you ask? Well, my dears, they hold all the secrets and thoughts of me, they were my ongoing diaries, whose pages had the pleasure of holding my teenage urges. It will be through those blessed pages which the legacy will be passed sown to you, my friends.  
  
From my older self, I bid you farewell. I am certain our paths will cross again. My younger self, May at times, seem immature and without the benefit of the wisdom that comes with age. But bear with her and the pleasure will be all yours....  
  
Lots of Love  
  
Pansy Parkinson (age 20) 


	3. The Chronicles of Pansy

_THE PANSY CHRONICLES_

1st September

"Yes Mother, I'll behave as usual," I cajoled to my heavily made up parent. Sometimes I stare at her and thank the heavens above that my good looks come from my father's side. Today she is wearing indecently tight pink robes, I've told her a million times that she just can't pull of pastels, but does she listen?

I do try to humour the old dear but lately she's been a nervous wreak, all bloodshot eyes and foaming at the mouth. Daddy has been missing for over eight weeks now, ever since those buffoons at the Ministry of Magic realised that the Dark Lord had made his comeback, once more with feeling.

Not that anybody ever tells me anything, they just think that I'm this amazingly precious princess who should be protected (which admittedly is true) but still I deserve to know something. It's not like I'm a gossip or anything, if there's one thing Pansy Parkinson can do, then it's to keep a secret.

"You be a good girl, flower..." mother sniffled through her silk hanky. Oh God, she's turning on the water works. Most of the time I don't get as much as a 'hello' from her, so this melodramatic PDA is downright unnerving! I carefully scrutinize her, she looked the same as usual; peroxide yellow hair in a mass of poodle curls, saggy orange cheeks and eyes smeared with so much mascara they struggle to stay open. Either she's very drunk or she's played victim to an alien body snatcher...

A streak of blond has just shot through a group of first years, could it be? Yes it is! Draco! It seems years since I have seen my little luvbug! I hope he still isn't angry with me. I may have been a tad insensitive last time I saw him, but how was I supposed to have known that Harry 'Martyr Complex' Potter had outed his father as a death eater? All I asked was whether Lucius would like a nail file and grooming kit for his birthday (Malfoy Senior is known for his impeccable style) I suppose gift selections weren't exactly on Draco's top priorities, but looking back, a file was strangely apt since Lucius had set up camp in Azkaban.

Anyway, I must see him immediately; a love like ours knows no bounds. It is a raging tide of passion which cannot be held back by dams of misunderstanding (I've come over all poetic!)

I turn to follow him on to the Hogwarts Express, when something clings on to my robes. I quickly spin around to swipe any unsuspecting kids with my bag, when I realise the gripper is my mother...I forgot about her.

She looks pathetically sappy and out of character, so I do what every good daughter must do, and take pity on the woman who brought me into this world. A quick hug and an obligation "I'll miss you mum" and she's still holding on to me with a strength usually reserved for the last bottle of magi-gin.

"Remember dear, good grades, good blood..."

"Good love" I finished the yearly motto before giving her a quick peck on the cheek and a subtle, "BYE MOM!!!" then leaving her to bound up to the awaiting train.

I scrambled with as much dignity as possible, through the crowded train. Why, oh why do they insist of having so many newbie's? They multiply as fast as bacteria and I swear they get more annoying every year. The standards have seriously dropped since MY first year at Hogwarts...

"Oh Ron DO hurry up, the carriages are nearly full" came Miss Perfecto's shrill voice. The wonder boys followed by Bushy Barnet herself, were heading my way. If ever there were three people who deserved an ego deflation it would be those goons. Walking around like they are superior to everybody else (I hate people like that) just because Potter is some kind of scarred hero.

AS IF.

Hermione Granger still retains the classic look of 'dragged through the whomping willow backwards' and Ronald Weasley has yet to lose his fetching appearance of being a giant nose in rags and freckles. At least Potter is looking worse for wear, that should cheer Draco up.

"Awwww if it isn't the trio of lame, Weasley you're looking very nice today. New robes?" I mock while looking the redhead up and down in perfect Malfoy style.

"Sorry, what am I saying? Weasley – New, two words you'll never hear together"

HA! Weasley's face quickly resembles a rotten tomato. Strike one for the Pansinator!

"Pansy, I could say you're looking nice, but I don't lie" the mud blood retorts, like her words could possibly offend me. I throw her my best medusa stare and glide past them to the prefect's carriage, wishing that comebacks came as easily to me as adoration.

Alas, I'm not going to waste my energy thinking about that triangle of freaks I have a Draco to find.

"Allo Pansy" Man Mountain 1 mutters from behind me.

I turn around to face my lover's henchmen Crabbe and Goyle.

"Boys!" I say sweetly "How are you?"

"Well I've got a bloody awful case of the trots and-"

"Lovely! Any idea where Draco is? I can't find him anywhere"

Crabbe points down to the prefect's carriage, at the very end of the train. I flash him my irresitble smile (I use it lightly; it has been known to drive men wild with lust!) and the boys lumber off to find some easy prey.

Rummaging through my handbag I pull out a small compact mirror and gaze into my reflection "Perfect" I declare, stating the obvious, before striding on.

_I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of mine..._

"Piss off Weasley, go and find someone who cares. Shouldn't be too hard for the likes of YOU!"

"You're not a god Malfoy, so stop acting like one. If you want a role that suits, try playing dead"

After hearing this bitter banter (I was NOT eavesdropping) I rushed in to defend Drakey's honour and to my horror and disgust, who should I see standing there, but the Weasley rag doll, shouting down to him. How dare the little brat even look at him?!

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything", I say in my best scathing 'get-away-from-my-man' tone.

Mini-Ron dared to smirk at me (!) and say "Don't fret, I'm not trying to steal Malfoy from you"

Then after a strange eye-locking session with Draco (What was that all about?) she whipped around her carrot stranded hair and strutted out.

Since when did Ginny Weasley learn to talk?

Since when did Ginny Weasley talk to Draco Malfoy?

"What did SHE want?" I demanded of Draco (who of which was looking undeniably yummy)

He arched his eyebrows and sneered (mucho sexy) before turning to gaze out of the window; like it was the most absorbing thing we had ever seen (we were going through a tunnel)

My world is askew. What did the sickening scene mean?

Well, whatever it was, Pansy Parkinson will be the one to discover the truth...


End file.
